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There is a look that some people get on being rescued. It makes them glow, a fervor in their eyes and hope kindling a light back into their souls. Leliana had seen it first during the blight, when people saw the Wardens coming. She had seen it since, in her time with the Divine, and every time it felt like the glow of the Maker's grace upon her- she was doing the right thing, bringing his light to the hopeless.
All of which to say- she had not expected to see it on the face of the prisoner. It had been days since the explosion- since Justinia's death- and she was holding onto her composure with her teeth and nails, clinging to serenity with chanted prayers and the smell of incense.
The prisoner shouldn't be looking at her as though she held the answers to everything, and yet- And yet he was. Green eyes blazed with hope, almost akin to the green light shining from his hand. "Lel- Sister Nightingale!"
Cassandra twitches slightly at the familiar address, shooting a suspicious look at Leliana, one she ignored.
"Do I know you?" Aloof, be aloof and untouched, but- even then, the look of hope doesn't waver, the prisoner not flinching at the blank look on her face.
"Alabaster triadine opal orange peregrine," the prisoner says in a rush, words tripping over each other in a practiced lilt, the sound of someone who mesmerized them by rote, repeating them until they no longer were words and turned into sounds, into song.
And wasn't. That. Interesting.
Leliana turned on her heel and walked to the door of the cell., "Leave us." It took the guards mere moments to leave, and she could feel the weight of Cassandra's gaze on her back, but the seeker knew her well enough to back the play, to wait until they were alone.
The door closed behind the guards, and Leliana waited one beat, two, then turned on her heel, staring at the prisoner. Green eyes, tan skin, dark brown hair, the faded black lines of June's vallaslin. One of countless servants her people had been keeping an eye on.
"Mahanon Lavellan. 23, Dalish, spy. Came in with a load of servants from Redcliff, but none of them knew you longer than a week before." She paced forward while she spoke until she was looming in front of the prisoner, Cassandra standing behind her, hand on her sword. "What do you think you will accomplish with those words?"
They had played this game before, Cassandra and her, and she knew how they looked. More than one prisoner had broken at this stage, spilling everything they knew out to the floor.
Lavellan just looked relieved, slumping back in his bonds and grinning a broken smile at them, looking for all the world like this was a release or a prison break, as though they were here to save him, not condemn him for the murder of the Divine and the entire upper echelons of the clergy. "Agent Herald reporting in, Sister. Last contact was Harvestmere, 9:42." Before either of them could react to that date, he then proceeded to rattle off another string of code, this the cypher she had invented in the blight, one that she only used for her own notes. His pronunciation and emphasis was all over the place, as though he had just memorized the sounds and had no idea what he was saying.
The report was-
It was madness.
It was the kind of knowledge that could make or break them.
It would turn the tide of the world.
Without thinking, she stepped forward and cut Herald's bonds, helping him to his feet. "Welcome back, agent." Ignoring Cassandra's incredulous noise, she helped him out of the cell, towards the stairs. "We have work to do."
It was the hand of the Maker upon her once more, granting her a path forward like he had all those years ago.